


Flow like the river and i will be your ocean

by Dalankar



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalankar/pseuds/Dalankar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life and loves of Eomer, knight of Rohan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flow like the river and i will be your ocean

He is a soldier. Yes, he is a prince. But he will never be king and that knowledge sits easily enough on his shoulders. When he sees himself, it is as a soldier. A warrior who would die for this land without a second thought. Rohan is in his blood. It is woven in to his breath, nestled in his heart, flowing in his veins. He has loved his country ever since he can remember. When he was young, smaller even than the long sword he now bears, he watched the knights training and remembers the pride he felt knowing that he would be one of them someday. It is who he is. And he would no more change it than he would the colour of the sky.

\---

Exile. It tastes bitter on his lips. Grinds against the beat of his heart. He thought he'd been doing what was right. No. He knows it. And yet he is exiled. He does not doubt himself, only hates the helplessness he feels at not being able to help the ones he loves. His uncle, the king of Rohan. He knows Wormtongue has him under some dark spell. A spell that is of Saruman in origin. But that knowledge does not help him, nor his uncle. Or his sister. She had wanted to come with him. To get away from the dark halls and the long nights that she had been enduring at the citadel. But his sister, despite her spirit, would not be able to endure the harsh life of exile. And one of the blood had to stay for their uncle. He is a warrior, yes but that does not mean he has given up hope.

\---

Gondor. The last battle. He does not expect to come back from this. But then, that is every battle every single time. He never expects to come back. That he does, well he leaves that up to the gods. He watches the writhing mass of Orcs below them and smiles. If this would be his last day on middle earth, there is nowhere he'd rather be but following his king in to hell.

\---

He had loved Theodred before he realised he probably shouldn't. By then it had been too late. Theodred would have killed him anyway if he ever followed that stream of thought.

"I am the prince and you're my knight. This is how we should be." Theodred had said once, folded in his arms under the starlit skies of Rohan.

Was it a cruel trick of fate that he had found the broken body of Theodred in that same river bank so many years later?

He remembered the fear, like his heart was trying to burst out of his chest. So afraid of what he would find. And when he found a pulse, skittering under his trembling fingers he had been relieved enough to cry. But that hope had been fleeting. Dashed by a wound that had gone too deep and festered. He sat vigil by his lover's bed praying to all the gods he knew.

“Please. Please… Take anything I have. Take my life but let him live.”

He was a warrior. He knew the cost of war. But this? He could not bear it. He could not see himself emerging from the darkness.

Theodred had woken only once three days after the battle.

“I will find you again, my knight.” Theodred had promised him, skin clammy with sweat and dying.

Èomer had held on to Theodred's hand, tears running down his face and Theodred had smiled. That sweet smile that never failed to lift his heart. It couldn’t then. His heart had been too heavy. This was the last time he'd see that smile. The last time for everything. Theodred had faded away just after midday on the third day, breathing his last breath as Èomer watched with red rimmed eyes. Theodred had died and taken his heart with him. Èomer had not believed it would ever be possible for him love another.

Until now.

Until he meets Faramir. Son of Denethor and brother of Boromir.

He has eyes that reminds Èomer of Theodred. That is the first thing he notices about him. And a smile that can brighten the day. Èomer finds that out soon after. Amongst other things. Faramir is a lover of books, of things long past and forgotten.

It sometimes makes Èomer wonder whether Faramir has some Elven blood in him, surely no man can be as scholarly?

But Èomer loves it. Loves listening to Faramir talk about history, about the Elves and the Dwarves and songs whose creators are long since forgotten. He loves the bright eyes and the excited gestures and how breathless Faramir can make him just by talking about a long lost city of the Dwarves. It is good to feel this again. 

He still misses Theodred. One can never forget a love like that. But his heart is healing, a little by little. He is a warrior. But all the wars are fought and won. Now he is a king. With a country to rebuild and people to care for. It is no easy thing but he will do his best. And if he believes Faramir, his best will be more than enough. 

 

The End.


End file.
